


and now i see daylight

by spaceprincessem



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Derek Hale is a Nice Thing, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski Deserves Nice Things, Stiles Stilinski Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, soft Derek Hale, soft boys in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-18 17:28:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28995993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaceprincessem/pseuds/spaceprincessem
Summary: “Are you sure?” Derek asked, tilting his head to the side, the razor held securely in his hand.“Please.” Stiles begged, swallowing the lump in his throat.He didn’t mean to sound so desperate, but it was one of the only feelings he had left in his shriveled up, husk of a body. He was desperate to return to normal. Desperate to get better. Desperate for his friends, his father, to love him again. Desperate to feel like he wasn’t drowning. Derek nodded his head, moving behind Stiles, carefully placing one hand against the back of Stiles’ neck to angle his head just right. Stiles held his breath, eyes squeezing shut as he let himself fall into Derek’s mercy.
Relationships: Derek Hale & Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 9
Kudos: 172





	and now i see daylight

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, shout out to my friend Lyra for giving me this cool idea about Stiles asking Derek to help him cut his hair! She let me runway with a super angsty version of it because that's just how I roll.

The soft buzz was the only thing that broke the looming silence. Stiles exhaled slowly, letting the hum from the razor take the weight of the quiet from his chest. It was suffocating, but his throat had already been rubbed raw from filling the empty halls with his screams. It was soothing in a way he hadn’t realized he needed, but it didn’t stop the tremble in his hand as he slipped his fingers through his messy, brown locks. He re-gripped the razor, knuckles going white as he stared at his reflection. 

It had been a few weeks, but it might as well just have been only a few hours. 

His skin was still sickly pale, eyes hooded by deep, dark circles. His lips were cracked, cheeks sharp. This was his body. But it wasn’t. He was ripped apart, clumsily put back together, and spat out as something a little less than himself. He squeezed his eyes shut, setting the razor back down, but didn’t turn it off. He was afraid the silence would swallow him up if he did. He knew he could have called Scott or even Lydia to help cut his hair. Hell, even his father could have sat him down and done it himself. He’d done all of his buzz cuts in the past.

But Stiles knew. No matter how much they had reassured them he could see the way they still looked at him. Like he was still that  _ thing _ . That monster that had killed Aiden. Killed Allison. He could see their shoulders tense, mouths pulling taut when he neared them. He could see the way his father instinctively went for the gun at his hip anytime Stiles entered the room. 

It had worn his face. Spoke with his voice. They were one in the same. 

When he washed his hands he imagined the water running crimson, staining the pearly white sink. When he closed his eyes he was trapped in that locker, trapped in echo house, trapped in a never ending game where he would never come out the victor. He let himself slip to the ground, knees pulling to his chest as he placed his back against the wall. It was hard to get better when everyone still treated you like a threat. When they pinned you with guilty looks, even if they only last a second. It was hard to get better when all he saw was the darkness and the chaos staring back at him in the mirror.

He pulled his phone from his hoodie, fingers numbly working over the keypad without thinking. It wasn’t until he heard a gruffly  _ Stiles? _ on the other line did he realize who he had called.

“Derek?” His own voice sounded so loud against the emptiness of the room, despite his hushed tone.

“What’s wrong?” Derek sounded more awake now, alert.

Stiles barely registered that it was well past two in the morning. His dad had been working more night shifts, which left Stiles alone more often than not. At least he didn’t wake anyone with his ear shattering screams as he woke from nightmares.

“I-” Stiles began, because he wasn’t in danger, and he wasn’t really sure why he had called Derek at all, “nothing, I’m fine.”

“Liar.” Derek stated matter-of-factly.

Stiles snorted softly, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “I’m not in trouble, sorry,” he frowned, “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Can’t sleep?” Derek asked.

Stiles could hear him shifting in his bed and he imagined the wolf moving to a sitting position. Stiles wondered how Derek still managed to sleep in the loft after all the terrible things that had happened there. Void had violated his room for mere hours and Stiles felt like he could barely breathe in there. He’d taken to sleeping on the couch most nights, when he could sleep, that is. He could still hear the hum of the razor. He felt this terrible itch beneath his skin, like he needed to do  _ this _ . He needed to do something, but he couldn’t do it alone.

“Would you be able to help me with something?” Stiles asked, avoiding the question. Derek probably already knew the answer anyway.

“Of course.” Derek responded seriously.

Stiles worried his bottom lip between his teeth, ignoring the sour tang of blood against his tongue. “Is now a bad time?”

He heard Derek chuckle, low and soft, and it somehow loosened the knots forming in his chest. “No, Stiles, now is not a bad time.”

“Sweet,” he said as he released shaky breath, “I’ll be over in ten minutes, and uh, Derek?”

“Yes?”

“Thanks.” There was a genuine smile curling against his lips now, it was small, but still there. Stiles wasn’t sure the last time he had really smiled.

“Only for you, Stiles.” Derek hummed before hanging up the phone.

* * *

If Stiles were being completely honest with himself he knew why he had called Derek. He seemed to be the only person in Beacon Hills that didn’t look at him like he was a monster. He didn’t flinch or tense when they touched. The grey-green of his eyes remained soft and open when they held each other’s gaze. Derek didn’t make him feel like he was to blame.

“Are you sure?” Derek asked, tilting his head to the side, the razor held securely in his hand.

“ _ Please _ .” Stiles begged, swallowing the lump in his throat. 

He didn’t mean to sound so desperate, but it was one of the only feelings he had left in his shriveled up, husk of a body. He was desperate to return to normal. Desperate to get better. Desperate for his friends, his father, to love him again. Desperate to feel like he wasn’t drowning. Derek nodded his head, moving behind Stiles, carefully placing one hand against the back of Stiles’ neck to angle his head just right. Stiles held his breath, eyes squeezing shut as he let himself fall into Derek’s mercy. The first stroke of the razor felt like Stiles had finally found the surface, lungs burning, as he gasped for air. As Derek worked Stiles could feel a weight lifting from his shoulders. He didn’t stop the tears from slipping down his cheeks as his fallen hair brushed against his shoulders. 

It felt like years, but when Derek was finally done he softly clicked off the razor, stepping back. Stiles hesitantly brought his hands to the soft patch of fuzz. When he felt brave enough he opened his eyes. He always hated when his father would cut his hair. He felt it made him too baby faced, too young. No one would ever be interested in someone like him with his too short buzz cut and scrawny limbs. Now it was the only connection he had to a time before werewolves. Before hunters who had beaten him and chaos that had held him prisoner. Before he had lost his innocence and the ability to keep himself together. Before he was a goddamn monster with blood on his hands and darkness around his heart. 

The reflection staring back at him still had dark circles and cracked lips. He still had hollowed cheeks and ghostly, pale skin. He was still exhausted and lost and like something was missing, but this time, he looked a little more like him. He turned away, facing Derek now. He couldn’t understand why his chest tightened as he caught the look of pain on Derek’s face.

“It’s just hair.” Stiles said with a weak smile as he blinked away more tears. “It’s just hair.”

“I think it’s more than just hair.” Derek replied quietly. 

Stiles shook his head, wishing he could just stop fucking crying, but he had held it in for so long it was finally ready to explode. “It’s just hair.” He repeated, his voice cracking. “It’s just hair.”

Derek offered him a half smile, eyes crinkling in the corners. “Well, you look beautiful to me.”

“You’re the only one that looks at me and doesn’t see  _ him _ .” Stiles blurted out before he could stop himself. 

“You’re the only one that really saw  _ me _ .” Derek answered like it was the simplest thing in the entire world. 

Derek took a step forward, waiting for Stiles to follow. When Stiles did Derek ran warm fingers over his newly buzzed hair. Stiles felt a shiver go down his spine as Derek cupped his jaw, gently bringing their lips together. Derek held him reverently, like Stiles was something to be behold. It was more than just hair. It was Stiles reclaiming a piece of himself, taking it back from the darkness that had nearly torn him apart.

“Thank you,” Stiles breathed against Derek’s skin, their foreheads touching.

“Only for you, Stiles.” Derek said before kissing him again. “Only for you.”

**Author's Note:**

> I just started grad school and it's kicking my butt and I've been struggling to write anything when I'm so brain dead all the time. I'm happy to get this quick little piece out there! Please let me know your thoughts and thank you so much for reading!


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